


Catch Lightning in a Bottle

by jmtorres



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A Tiny Bit of Praise Kink, Aziraphale has an Idea, Coming Untouched, Crowley Grudgingly Has A Penis Today, Crowley is a somewhat uncommunicative submissive, Dom/sub Undertones, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Other, Overstimulation, PWP, grey-A characters having complicated feels about sexual body parts, just a coupla queer masc nb angels, making an effort sounds like work, neural sex, neural stimulation, psychic sex?, sexy sexy physiology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 07:30:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20170498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmtorres/pseuds/jmtorres
Summary: Crowley's not that into manifesting genitals, but Aziraphale's really into giving Crowley orgasms, so he works on a compromise.





	Catch Lightning in a Bottle

"Make yourself some parts," Aziraphale suggested. He sat on the edge of the bed while Crowley sprawled across it, ready to nap if Aziraphale let him, but available to touch if Aziraphale decided he wanted that instead. "Something you like. Something you'd wear if I asked you to come for me."

"You do it," Crowley muttered, predictably, lounging back so his head dipped deeper into the pillows and his pelvis, blank, jutted slightly towards Aziraphale. 

"Yes, I have an idea about that, but for this time I'd like you to," Aziraphale told him. 

Crowley regarded him thoughtfully, folding one arm behind his head, elbow sharp. "What's your idea? You'll make them for me if I show you how I like them made?" With his other hand, he rubbed at his thigh briefly, and then he was manifesting a penis, one that matched his human shape for once, instead of prickling with serpentine extras. It was soft, the foreskin covering the head, and it looked pale in its nest of flaming curls. 

"Mm, not exactly," Aziraphale said. He reached out but before he touched Crowley, he added, "May I?"

"By all means. I did it for you," Crowley snarked at him, gesturing expansively. 

Aziraphale put his hand on Crowley's belly, lightly resting. He didn't have to be touching Crowley for this, but it was easier; easier to reach out with otherworldly senses by pressing skin to skin and linking flesh to flesh. He traced the form Crowley had appended to himself with his perception, checking for completeness, for sensitivity, for function. Aziraphale had _asked_ him for genitals he'd use to come, but he didn't quite trust Crowley not to short himself on that and make purely aesthetic ones instead. But no, Crowley had followed his directions. Everything was hooked up, from the coiled tubes of seminal fluid to the vascular spaces waiting to fill with blood to the fine nerve endings Aziraphale needed for his experiment. 

Carefully, gently, and above all, slowly--he knew it could be jarring to activate everything at once--Aziraphale began stimulating those nerves directly, rather than touching Crowley's offering physically. He watched the process intently, how each neuron spilled over its chemical spark to ignite the next, where the chain joined the more permanent parts of Crowley's corporeal form, riding up his spine and into his brain. 

Crowley's body reacted; his cock rose with the tide of sensation Aziraphale provided. His thighs were tense, as were the muscles of his abdomen under Aziraphale's hand. Aziraphale heard, distantly, an indrawn breath. These things were only peripherally relevant so he paid them little mind until Crowley grabbed his wrist.

Aziraphale eased up and tried to pull back his hand but Crowley wasn't letting go, though surely the tightness of his grip was a request to throttle down his attentions. Crowley had pushed up on that sharp elbow, staring at him, lips parted. "What are you doing?" he asked, voice harsh.

"I'm going to make you come," Aziraphale said. "Is that all right?"

"Like that?" Crowley asked, breathless. "Only it's so--" He couldn't seem to find a word. He shook his head, mouth a pressed line. 

"Invasive?" Aziraphale suggested. 

"Yeah," Crowley said, shakily. "Kind of."

"Is it more or less invasive than it would have been if I'd miracled the cock onto your crotch?" Aziraphale asked him. "Or a vagina, what if I'd done that?"

Crowley frowned at him. "Are you trying to teach me a lesson?"

"Not exactly," Aziraphale said. "I do have an idea. If you'll trust me." 

Crowley studied him, biting at his own lip with a pointed tooth. He loosed his hold on Aziraphale's wrist and spread his legs a little, seemingly trying to sink into the mattress. His hand brushed the outside of Aziraphale's thigh where he sat next to him. "It's not that I don't trust you," he said.

"If you don't want me to, I won't do it," Aziraphale replied. He flexed his fingers, stroking Crowley's stomach. "It's not a lesson. I promise, it's just what I said. I want to make you come." 

Crowley didn't say anything, so Aziraphale withdrew his hand. "That's--" Crowley reached out and caught his hand again, but fingers to palm this time, instead of tight around the wrist. "Could you do both? Touch me, and... the other thing? Or does that ruin your idea?" 

"Touch you?" Aziraphale murmured. "I'd be delighted to touch you, Crowley, but this," and he lifted his hand from Crowley's to run a finger along the underside of Crowley's desultory cock, "doesn't feel like you. You're so reluctant to bring it out, it hardly seems you're even interested in it. So can you blame me if I'm not either?" 

Crowley lifted his chin, leaning up toward Aziraphale. "What do you propose?"

Aziraphale slid up the bed so he could cup his palm around Crowley's waiting jaw. "How about if I touch you here?" he asked and bent down to kiss him. 

A few moments passed, sweetly, and Crowley pulled back from the kiss long enough to say, "Yeah, all right, that could work," before lifting his face back to Aziraphale's.

So Aziraphale kissed him, and stroked his throat, his chin, his collarbones, and tenderly, painstakingly, made all of his nerves sing. He wasn't sure what it would feel like to Crowley, if his body would interpret the signals as pressure, some phantom touch, or only as pleasure. He was pretty sure he had it down cleanly enough none of it would come through as pain. Although this was Crowley; he might appreciate a little pain. Aziraphale decided to handle that notion physically, nosing along Crowley's neck, choosing a spot to bite and suck at his skin as he groaned. 

"Do you like it?" he asked softly, whispered in Crowley's ear, between rough little kisses. 

"Mm," Crowley answered agreeably, if not particularly specifically. The arm he'd had behind himself to lean on, he brought up to wrap around Aziraphale's shoulder, sinking further into the pillows and drawing Aziraphale with him. Just when Aziraphale thought he wasn't going to get any more words out of Crowley, he added, "It tingles, kind of? That's not it, exactly. It's sort of... shivery? It's like, like a vibrator stuck on the most sensitive spot you have, and you can't shift away from it, except it's just everywhere." 

"Do you want to pull away from it?" Aziraphale asked. "Do you want me to stop?"

Crowley shook his head, face pressed into Aziraphale's throat. "Make me come, like you said," he pleaded. "Do it to me."

"Are you ready to come?" Aziraphale asked curiously. He didn't think he'd been working on Crowley for that long, and when he checked the internal physical indicators, Crowley didn't seem to be on the edge.

But Crowley repeated, "Make me," and Aziraphale understood: Crowley wasn't close, but he wanted Aziraphale to overwhelm him, to manipulate his body more harshly, more intensely. 

Aziraphale kissed Crowley and pressed his shoulders down so he'd let go, and then sat back up so he could focus properly on controlling Crowley's synapses. He put one hand on Crowley's belly, where he'd started, and the other on his face, across his cheek, intimate but also close to the brain. 

Almost immediately after Aziraphale increased his stimulation, Crowley's cock began to ejaculate. "That's a neat party trick," Crowley said, entirely too unruffled, and Aziraphale amped up his efforts. Crowley's breath drew in sharply, and Aziraphale's hands couldn't hold him down when he curled in on himself, turning onto his side. He ground his cock helplessly against Aziraphale's hip, and hugged Aziraphale's thigh with both arms, and pressed his face into Aziraphale's knee. Aziraphale rubbed his back, fingertips along his spine, watching and directing that flow of nervous impulse while Crowley whined and sobbed blessings against him.

"Do you like it?" Aziraphale asked him, stroking at his hair. His cock had spurted out its last few drops of fluid but was still jerking. 

"Fuck you," Crowley groaned.

"Fuck you, stop, or fuck you, please?" Aziraphale said. 

"Nkgh," said Crowley, which was ambiguous enough that Aziraphale started to ease off, but then Crowley clutched at him harder and said, "Please, it's please, angel, fuck," so Aziraphale gave him the rest of it, as much as he could take, let him shudder splendidly until he was too exhausted to hold onto Aziraphale anymore, and could only spasm involuntarily. 

After, Aziraphale kept his hands on Crowley's back, on the nape of his neck. Crowley twitched, and breathed heavy and slow and ragged, and went flat between his legs where he was still pressed to Aziraphale's hip. That was all right. Aziraphale had gotten what he needed. 

When Crowley's breathing had smoothed out some, Aziraphale asked him, "How are you feeling?"

"You're a bastard," Crowley said, muffled by how he held his face mashed to Aziraphale's knee still. 

"Was it too much?" Aziraphale asked, a little worried now.

"Ha. Fuck. Dunno," Crowley answered. Another breath. "I didn't want to cry mercy," he admitted, turning his head a little to speak the words more clearly, to look up at Aziraphale.

"You took it very well," Aziraphale told him. And, because Crowley shone at that, added, "I'm proud of you."

Crowley's face relaxed beautifully, his eyes slipping half shut. "What was your idea?" he asked. 

"Oh," said Aziraphale. "My solution to your distaste for presenting. You don't have to if you don't want to anymore, not even to let me pleasure you. Now that I've closely observed the neurological process, I can get your body to do it again without the parts." 

"Orgasms on demand," Crowley murmured, rubbing his face against Aziraphale. "You'll be the death of me."

"Only little deaths," Aziraphale promised, tangling his fingers in Crowley's hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to niqaeli and enemyofperfect for beta. 
> 
> This is a scene from a longer thing I'm working on, but I couldn't figure out where it went in sequence so it was looking to get cut, and also working on long things is hard I want engagement way ahead of being ready to post, so posting this as a standalone.
> 
> Also posted on [dreamwidth](https://jmtorres.dreamwidth.org/1813478.html).


End file.
